The Phantom of the Opera? Or Just my Imagination?
by Daroga's Rainy Daae
Summary: I took a vacation to Paris with my best friend and her family, and when we toured the Paris Opera house, I think I met Erik. Read... and tell me... What do YOU think?


Phantom of the Opera...? Or just my imagination...?  
  
  
  
Last summer, my friend invited me to take a vacation with her family to Paris, because she knew how much I loved The Phantom of the Opera. She said it was a birthday present for her, and the plane ticket and everything would be provided. So, guess what? I came along.  
  
The whole plane ride there, I wouldn't shut up about my goal to go to box five in the Paris Opera house and knock on the marble pillar to see if it was hollow, a task that was far to easy for me to annoy my friend with considering that half the time we flew, it was in the middle of the night. Finally around 3:00AM I fell asleep, but my friend told me in the morning that I was still talking about Phantoms until around 7:00AM.  
  
Our brains were confused with the time difference in France, but we got used to it after a day. We toured many places; (I was sure to pack TONS of film) and the whole time we were sight seeing, I was pleading silently to hurry and get to the Paris Opera house quick before it closed. Too bad for me by the end of the day, we STILL hadn't seen it. My friend knew she was torturing me, so she suggested to her parents that the opera house would be a nice first place to visit in the morning. That is why she is my best buddy. We understand each other!  
  
At 6:00AM, I woke my friend up and told her to bug her parents, which she did. All tired and grumpy except for me, we got ready and ate a quick breakfast which I bounced up and down all the way through. By the time we climbed into the rental car and started driving down the road, I was tumbling around in my seat, almost screaming with excitement. I was singing the theme to The Phantom of the Opera really quickly and spastically when we reached the building. It shut me up, and all I could do was stare at it in awe.  
  
"This... is... great!" I was able to utter.  
  
The family opened the doors slowly and got out of the car calmly and naturally. I DOVE out of my seat, struggling with my seat belt which was choking me. My friend had to help me unbuckle it because I was moving too much to do it myself. What a friend she is.  
  
So we took the tour... I was jumping up and down the whole time in the back because people started to complain when I was in front. My friend thought I was an embarrassment.  
  
You could tell how infuriated I was when we walked right past the way to box five, and I almost screamed, but I didn't. Instead, I stayed put.  
  
"Please stay with the tour, hon'," the tour guide said, waving for me to follow her.  
  
"Bathroom," I said, shaking my head.  
  
"Sorry, not until the tour ends," she replied. I swear that lady was the devil. I don't get how anyone could mistake her for HUMAN.  
  
"It's an emergency," I protested.  
  
I guess the lady took my shaking as sickness, or maybe some angel decided it was my time to thrive, or maybe I was standing on a lucky penny... but she let me go. SHE LET ME GO!!! I was so happy...  
  
I told her my friend had to go with me.. pee buddy, you know. And when the tour group left around the corner to continue, we dashed as fast as we could to box five. There it was. The box was perfect; exactly how I had imagined it! Wonderful box... Beautiful box... and the pillar!  
  
I gaped in astonishment.  
  
"Well?" My friends asked.  
  
"Well, what?" I answered.  
  
"Aren't you going to knock on the pillar?"  
  
"Aren't you going to let me bask in the glory of the stupid box for five seconds!?"  
  
"Have it your way..."  
  
We waited. When I finally got over the shock of being there, I ran up to the marble pillar and knocked on it. My heart sunk.  
  
I knocked on it again, put my ear up close to it, and knocked many more times.  
  
"Well?" My friend tapped her foot at me.  
  
"It's not hollow," I muttered in disbelief.  
  
"It's marble, of course not," she said. I explained to her how in The Phantom of the Opera, the marble pillar in box five was hollow. She reminded me that The Phantom of the Opera wasn't real.  
  
"Too bad," my friend said as I sat down in a seat, discouraged. "I really wanted to see you lick it."  
  
"Yeah, I really WANTED to lick it," I said, thinking of our bet. If it was hollow, that's what I would have done.  
  
As my friend sat down next to me, glancing over the railing at the stage, a voice behind us said something in French that made us both start and turn around.  
  
"Sorry, sorry!" My friend shouted.  
  
"We won't come here again!" I cried, but there was nobody there.  
  
"Strange," my friend said, peering around a corner. "Nobody."  
  
I asked her what the voice had said, because she was a second year French student. Right then, I wished I had taken it instead of ASL.  
  
"He said, 'Leave it, mademoiselles.' At least I think so," she answered. "That's why I thought it was somebody who worked here."  
  
We were silent for a while, thinking about the voice when I got the sudden urge to pound on the pillar again. I did this with a sharp rap, and a hollow thud echoed back at me.  
  
"It's hollow," I said in disbelief.  
  
"Liar," my friend sneered. I knocked on it again and it made the clunk of marble. She snorted at me. "Whatever."  
  
So we left it at that. Now I have a couple questions... Who was it that said 'Leave it, mademoiselles,' and what did he mean? Was it the Phantom of the Opera? If it was, I could easily explain the un-hollow and suddenly hollow sounds of the pillar... Erik at work with his ventriloquism. But was it just another part of my overactive imagination getting the better of me? Am I really that obsessed? And if I am, how can one explain the fact that my friend heard the voice, too?  
  
Some pretty nice things happened in Paris last summer, and I still can't explain that day. But I can honestly tell you that I think the Phantom of the Opera patrolled box five once more... 


End file.
